


A Risk Worth Taking

by ThePreciousHeart



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: (mention of animal death but it's not shown), Animal Death, Bad Days, Conversations, Developing Relationship, Dinner, Falling In Love, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6849244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePreciousHeart/pseuds/ThePreciousHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Hart has had a rather emotional week, so Merlin joins him for dinner out. Over the course of their conversation, he realizes that falling for Harry might be a risk worth taking.</p><p>Or, how the death of a dog and alcohol-influenced uncharacteristic openness led to Merlin & Harry developing a romantic relationship. Prequel to "Boundaries."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Risk Worth Taking

       Ten minutes.

       Ten minutes only warranted a passing glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes began the tapping of feet. Twenty minutes… Merlin waited patiently, counting the seconds until it finally slipped out.

       “What’s _taking_ him so long?” came Arthur’s inevitable comment, his voice touched with exasperation.

       “I’m not sure, sir,” Merlin responded, keeping his eyes fixed on the clipboard in his hands. “I can’t contact him through the glasses. He might have switched them off.” _Or he might not be wearing them._

       Arthur’s only reply was to heavily exhale and return to silence. Twenty-three minutes. Twenty-five minutes.

        Finally, at thirty minutes past the meeting’s start time, Galahad breezed through the doors. He passed Merlin with little more than a nod of acknowledgement, and came to a stop before Arthur, clasping his hands in front of him and levelly meeting his gaze. “Good morning, Arthur. You wanted to see me?”

       “Well, it’s about time,” Arthur said, not even bothering to mask his frustration. “You’ve kept Merlin and I waiting for half an hour.”

        “Terribly sorry,” Galahad murmured, but he didn’t offer an explanation, which caused Merlin to narrow his eyes. He’d grown used to hearing increasingly ridiculous excuses for Galahad’s lateness every time the agent was called to a meeting. It seemed strange that he shouldn’t have one ready now.

       Arthur clearly expected one too, because he waited for a few seconds before finally moving on. “Go on, have a seat. Percival sent us an important update from Rome this morning that requires your attention.”

       “Did he?” Galahad said absently. His fingers brushed against the wooden back of the chair closest to him, but he didn’t pull it out to take a seat. Again Merlin had to wonder at his actions. He couldn’t remember seeing Galahad refuse such a suggestion from Arthur before. To remain standing when asked to sit would easily translate to Arthur as insubordination, and though Galahad may have flirted with the line of decency in the past he was still reluctant to incur Arthur’s ire.

       “Yes…” Arthur responded, his eyes briefly leaving Galahad’s face to stare at his hand on the chair. Merlin could almost see his thoughts forming- _why won’t he do as he asked…?_ His next suggestion made it clear that he was preoccupied by this action.

        “Galahad, won’t you please sit down?”

       “My apologies,” Galahad replied, his hand slipping from the chair’s surface. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, Arthur. I only came in today to make a personal request.”

       A hard glint appeared in Arthur’s eye, but instead of releasing the harsher words that Merlin could see were on his mind, he settled for a sigh and said, “At least you had the decency to inform me in person. Though keeping us waiting like that was highly unprofessional- I expect better behavior from you.”

     “Once more,” Galahad said smoothly, “if you’ll accept my apologies.” He sounded rather half-hearted in saying so, though, and Merlin briefly wondered what was weighing on his mind.

        “That I do, Galahad,” Arthur relented. “What are you asking?”

        “That you permit me to take the day off,” Galahad replied. “I know it’s an inopportune time, but it’s… a family emergency.”

         _So that explains it,_ Merlin thought, lowering his clipboard to pay better attention. Though something seemed… off about that vague statement, something that he couldn’t put his finger on. At the head of the table, Arthur’s stony stare immediately softened, his brows knitting together. “How serious is it?”

       “Very serious, I’m afraid,” Galahad said. “I regret that I kept you waiting so long for nothing, but if I were to work today I’m sure I would be too distracted to be of any use. But of course it’s your call.”

       Merlin watched Arthur’s face closely, seeing the struggle play out behind his eyes. Eventually, though, he relented. “In that case, Galahad, you’re relieved of today’s duties. Though I expect you to be fully prepared to work when you return tomorrow.”

       “Thank you,” Galahad said, dipping his head. A faintly restrained tone of relief colored his voice.

      “Though that means you’re expected to review Percival’s information in the meantime,” Arthur quickly added, the briskness returning to his voice. “Merlin, let Galahad have the memo.”

       “Yes, sir.” Neutrally Merlin unclipped the papers from Percival that had just been faxed earlier that morning and handed them over. Galahad turned to receive them with a polite smile, the tips of his fingers barely brushing against Merlin’s hand. Yet that smile felt… different to Merlin, lacking in some important quality. Flashing through memories of Galahad in his mind, he quickly puzzled out what it was. Every smile that he recalled Galahad ever giving him had been a genuine smile, maybe not an _intimate_ one as he might offer family, but definitely a smile that showed he was present in the moment and was truly glad to see Merlin. Today, however, there was nothing beyond his eyes, nothing that suggested depth of feeling. Galahad’s body might have been present in the room, but mentally he was elsewhere.

       Merlin’s brow furrowed slightly, though he was able to keep the rest of his face placid. Whatever “family emergency” Galahad was involved in had to be serious if it had sucked the light from his eyes.

        _Or maybe you’re just paying too much attention…_

“Family emergency.” Now what was it about that phrase that sounded so _wrong?_ It was a perfectly legitimate excuse, if not a particularly specific one…

       “Thank you, sir,” Galahad said to Arthur. “I’ll be sure to look over the memos.”

        “Then that will be all, Galahad,” Arthur said. “Go on to your family.”

       “Yes, sir,” Galahad responded, just as it hit Merlin. _Family. Family…?_

He stared after Galahad as he exited the room, suddenly longing follow him out and demand to know what was going on. However, Arthur commanded his attention for a few minutes more.

       “I suppose we’ll have to continue the day as usual,” he said, taking his glasses off and folding them up. “Return to your workstation, Merlin, and await transmission from Percival. It’s a good thing the old codger sleeps so late, or else he’d have been stuck waiting around just like we were.” He chuckled, and Merlin forced a small smile while privately wondering who was calling _whom_ old.

       “That must be where Galahad got it from,” Merlin said, which led to a forceful sigh and shaking of the head from Arthur. “It doesn’t surprise me that he picked up Percival’s bad habits as well as the good ones. Still, we’re lucky to have them both at our table.” He put his glasses down and locked eyes with Merlin. “No need to hang around me all day, Merlin. Return to headquarters.”

        “Yes, sir.” Merlin shuffled out in as calm a step as he could manage, but inside his heart pounded. Had Galahad left the shop yet? Was there still enough time to catch up to him before Merlin was due back at HQ?

       Once the doors closed, Merlin quickened his pace. He raced down the stairs, just in time to see Galahad open the door onto the busy London street. Swallowing, Merlin made for the door, catching it just before it swung back into place. “Galahad-“

       Galahad turned, his eyes widening once he saw that he’d been followed. “Merlin?” He slowly traveled back to the door, hovering a meter away from Merlin as if afraid to come closer. “What’s going on?”

        “I should ask you the same,” Merlin murmured. He motioned to his side, and Galahad stepped towards the shopfront and away from the flow of sidewalk pedestrians, though he still didn’t draw any closer. “You say you’re not coming in today because of a ‘family emergency.’”

       “Yes,” Galahad replied stiffly. “Can you find any flaws with that statement?”

       Merlin gestured at the air above him. “You don’t _have_ a family.”

       There was a moment’s pause, and then Galahad finally moved towards Merlin, who automatically took a step back. He felt trapped under the sharp gaze with which Galahad was eyeing him.

       “Technically I _do_ have a family. Being disowned does not make them disappear.”

       “From what you’ve mentioned about them, I wouldn’t expect you to come running back to them unless someone was on their deathbed,” Merlin pointed out, ignoring Galahad’s attempt at misdirection. “And if that were the case, you wouldn’t have wasted time in telling Arthur personally, you’d have rushed to their side right away.”

       Galahad just stared back at Merlin, so intently that Merlin felt self-conscious before him. He wished he had a better way to read those penetrating eyes, so full of myriad emotions. He’d always found Galahad’s eyes to be his most expressive feature, but Merlin had only just begun to decipher what exactly they expressed.

       “Hm. I’ve underestimated how well you know me,” Galahad commented at last. “Very well. Because you’re such a good guesser, you deserve to know the contents of my ‘family emergency.’ Mr. Pickle died this morning.”

       _What?_ The statement was so bizarre to Merlin’s ears that it took him a moment to realize what Galahad was talking about. “Your- your dog?”

         “Yes. My dog.”

        _The one you were ordered to SHOOT as part of a test? That dog?_

But Merlin knew better than to voice those thoughts. Instead he could only repeat, “Your DOG? You’re taking off work because of your dog.” He swallowed back the urge to give a dubious laugh, knowing Galahad wouldn’t find the situation funny.

        “Yes.” A testy note crept into Galahad’s voice. “I don’t care to be questioned further on this, Merlin. Arthur let me off and that’s all that matters.”

         Again Merlin fought back a laugh- _oh, if Arthur only knew the truth!_ He shook his head in disbelief. “What about Percival’s mission, then? The mission matters. Kingsman matters. I don’t think that your-“

        _“My dog_ mattered to _me,”_ Galahad broke in suddenly, stopping Merlin in his tracks. To be interrupted by Galahad was such a rare occurrence that he instantly focused, noticing Galahad’s tightly-clenched grip on his umbrella handle and the sudden flare of fire in his eyes.

        “If you think of me as selfish, then so be it,” Galahad said darkly. “I joined Kingsman in order to break myself of the habit, and I feel that I’ve done a rather good job so far. A single day affects nothing in the long run. If Arthur had told me that Percival required my assistance in Rome immediately, I would have been on the plane in seconds, regardless of what might have happened today. But you and I both know that I’m not yet required, so I think I can afford to take a _bit_ of a break.”

       The speech grinded to a close, the heat of Galahad’s tranquil anger dying. An uncomfortable sensation swam through Merlin as the words settled in his head. Galahad’s speech had strayed a bit too close to home. Unspoken words swirled through the air- _but I suppose you wouldn’t understand, you never leave HQ, you rarely go anywhere outside of work…_

“Galahad,” Merlin began, and then paused, wondering if he should briefly break protocol to refer to Galahad by his name. He decided against it; they were still technically on Kingsman premises right now even if they were outside of the shop. “I’m sorry for what I said. And I’m sorry about M- about the dog.” _Mr. Pickle_ was just too absurd a name to cross his lips in serious conversation.

       “You’re forgiven,” Galahad murmured. Spent from the anger, he now seemed to deflate, his fists unclenching and his shoulders settling as he exhaled. “I know how it must have sounded to you.”

       “Mm.” Merlin stared up at the shopfront and then quickly down at his watch, calculating when he should go back and take the elevator to the shuttle. Arthur was probably expecting him to be there by now- but he didn’t want to leave Galahad in the middle of their conversation.

       Hesitantly he turned his gaze back to Galahad. “Is there anything I can do for…”

        “Oh, no, it’s all right,” Galahad said hastily, waving his hand. “I need the day to myself. I regret that I’ll miss our lunch, though.”

        _Our lunch._ Merlin ignored the chimes that went off in his head at that phrase. Nothing would change as a result of breaking their midday ritual- in fact it would be beneficial not to go out at all today, the better to monitor Percival’s mission. But still Merlin couldn’t help but feel a smidgen of disappointment. Galahad had always struck him as a more entertaining conversationalist than his mentor- or at least, a more _rational_ one.

       Then an entirely new thought struck him. A proposition that Merlin had never considered before- but it came to him now clear as day. Should he…? Would he be crossing a line to make such a suggestion? But Galahad wasn’t going to stay in place forever, and the minutes were ticking away until Merlin was due back at HQ. Fuck it. Why _not?_

“How about you let me return the favor?” Merlin said slowly, keeping his eyes carefully fixed on Galahad’s to gauge his reaction. “You’re always dragging me off to lunch, but I’ve never- taken _you_ anywhere.”

       Galahad blinked, his expression nondescript. “Are you saying you want to meet me for lunch as usual?”

       “No…” Merlin breathed, all too aware of how delicately he had to choose his words. He didn’t want to imply… “I was thinking more along the lines of dinner.”

       Whatever Galahad’s internal reaction to Merlin’s suggestion was, he didn’t let his expression change. Merlin began to think that perhaps he had made exactly the wrong move, when Galahad at last replied, “I’d be honored to take you up on that. Dinner sounds like a refreshing change of pace. Not to mention we’ll have business to go over, sooner rather than later.”

       So that’s how it would be, then- a business dinner. Not a meeting between friends… but Galahad’s response was still better than Merlin had expected. He nodded, bringing his clipboard up to make a note in his schedule. “I’ll be off from work at the usual time. Should we meet at the shop?”

       “No need,” Galahad said dismissively. “Just name your restaurant of choice and I’ll meet you there tonight. We can talk further details later.” He reached up and tapped his breast pocket, where Merlin spotted his Kingsman-issue glasses nestled inside.

       “Er-“ Merlin racked his brain for the name of the last restaurant he had been to, hoping Galahad even knew where it was. At last he came up with, “How about the Blue Heron Pub?”

       “That’s fine by me,” said Galahad. “Good choice. I’ll see you tonight.” With that, he turned and strode away, merging easily into the flow of people before Merlin could get out a word of parting. Hurriedly he turned back to the shop- there was no time to waste dwelling over his interactions with Galahad. Percival should be rising any moment now, which meant Merlin needed to get behind the screens as soon as possible.

*

       By the end of the day, after a blur of hotel rooms and sunny sidewalks and fountains as seen through Percival’s eyes, and after having to constantly convince the trigger-happy agent not to risk his cover, Merlin was beginning to feel that Galahad’s words earlier on had sunk in. _I really SHOULD be able to afford a break more often._ Tonight would be the first time in a month that Merlin had left HQ- the first time since the Rome mission was assigned. The thought of going home to his long-untouched flat and sleeping in his own bed was at once glorious and strange. And it was all preceded by dinner with Galahad.

       _No… No, Harry. Harry Hart._ Merlin sighed as he stepped into the shuttle and ran his fingers through his thin hair. Now that the workday was over, there was no use for codenames anymore.

       _Harry Hart…_ A rather potent name indeed. Merlin took his seat seconds before the shuttle sped off, his stomach churning as it always did with the sudden acceleration. Alone at last, with no obligations for the rest of the night, Merlin’s thoughts turned to the agent whom he was bemused, but pleased, to call his friend. While all the other agents of Kingsman were cordial to Merlin, Harry had somehow gone above and beyond and managed to worm his way into Merlin’s good graces, without Merlin even realizing until it was too late. Now that such a bond had been formed, however, Merlin couldn’t foresee it ever breaking. Harry provided him with much-needed company and kept the screens from completely sucking him up. It was exactly the kind of friendship Merlin needed in order to maintain in his isolated position within the agency.

       Lately, though, he’d begun to suspect. The oft-thought words now climbed into his head- _is it really JUST friendship?_ Truly, there was little to suggest that Harry got anything more than Merlin did out of their relationship. He frequented Merlin’s office more than any other agent, but he _was_ Merlin’s closest friend, so why shouldn’t he? He always made sure to take Merlin out to lunch- but that was out of concern that Merlin wasn’t interacting with the real world, that he needed fresh air. Their conversations held no salacious content, nothing that hinted that one would be incomplete without the other.

       Although Merlin found himself unable to imagine the course of his life without Harry in it. But honestly, that went for _all_ of Kingsman.

       Merlin had to hope that he would discover the exact nature of Harry’s feelings soon, because he knew full well that to see another person bathed in the rosy light of romance was a slippery slope to tread. If Harry wished to keep their relationship exactly as it was, Merlin knew he wouldn’t allow himself to succumb to the temptation of seeing it as anything more. But at the same time, if Harry admitted anything besides friendship- well, that was it. Merlin might never be able to remove the stars from his eyes. It was difficult to tread the boundary between friendship and beyond without any solid clues hinting one way or the other. The potential was always there, waiting to be acted on.

       Well, perhaps tonight’s dinner would clear up some issues. Though Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from it. Harry had seemed disproportionately upset this morning, deeply troubled by something that Merlin couldn’t trick himself into believing was just the death of his beloved pet. Hopefully a day to himself had cleared his mind, and if not- if not, Merlin hoped he was prepared for what was to come tonight.

*

       The Blue Heron was all but packed when Merlin arrived, the stench of cigarettes drifting from the smoker’s section and the music turned up so loudly that every patron had to raise their voice to be heard. Merlin’s skin crawled as he observed the swath of people. He didn’t remember this pub being so _popular_ before. He found himself yearning for the warm and cozy café right down the block from the tailor shop, where he and Harry habitually took their lunches. The familiar space was a comfort, so different from this raucous crowd.

       “Good evening, sir!” called an approaching server, his gaze and overly-wide smile drilling into Merlin. “Table for one?”

        “No- thank you,” Merlin mumbled, his words getting lost in the pounding beat of the music. He cleared his throat to speak louder above the din. “I’d like a table for two- I’m waiting on-“

       “Ian!” The voice, clear and unmistakable, cut through the overly-loud chatter and the music cranked to 11. Yet Merlin had grown so used to hearing his codename that it took a moment to register that _he_ was the one being summoned. He turned his head towards the source of the call, and was unsurprised to find Harry Hart waving to him from a booth halfway down the wall to the left.

       “Never mind,” he sighed to the server. “I’m with him.” Easily he stepped past the waiter and made his way to Harry, who gave him a smile as he sat down. There was still something missing from his expression- some lack of warmth that didn’t add up- but it didn’t seem as forced as it had been that morning. _Though it’s not hard to see why,_ Merlin thought as he noted the half-drunk pint of beer in front of Harry. From the glassy-eyed stare Harry gave him, he had a suspicion that this wasn’t Harry’s first drink of the night.

       This definitely didn’t seem like the setting of a “business dinner.”

        “I apologize if I surprised you,” Harry said to Merlin by way of greeting, his fingers curling around his glass. “I assumed you were used to hearing your name in public.”

       “I don’t think you understand how little I interact in public,” Merlin countered, raising his eyebrows. Not to mention that he couldn’t remember the last time Harry had referred to him by name. They usually didn’t refer to each other as anything during their public lunches.

       Harry sighed and raised the glass to his lips. “Yes, I do understand, and quite frankly, it bothers me.” He closed his eyes and drank deeply before continuing. “But enough of that. I’m so glad you recommended this place. I don’t go here often enough.”

       “Neither do I,” Merlin said, though he wasn’t sure Harry heard him over the music. Already he’d been here for less than five minutes, and it was starting to give him a headache.

       A waiter came over to take Merlin’s drink order and ask if they both needed more time with the menu. Harry said yes while Merlin gave the drinks list a glance, gave Harry’s glass a glance, and then asked for straight water. He knew what drunk Harry Hart looked like, and it was a sight preferably faced when sober.

        As soon as the waiter left, Harry met Merlin’s eyes. “How was your day, Ian?”

        There it was again, _Ian._ It was growing less surreal to hear, though, as it dredged up memories of their training days together. Merlin let out a slight chuckle at the query- there was something so perfectly _domestic_ about it. “I’ve had worse. Perci- Basil is bouncing off the walls down there in Rome. I think he’s going stir-crazy, dying for some action at last.” He shook his head, remembering the frantic argument they’d had that day over when was a good time to interfere and when it most certainly was _not._ “He’s certainly got energy for a man his age.”

       “Yes,” Harry agreed, but he looked away from Merlin, a guarded expression taking over his face. “You’re telling _me.”_

A brief pause filled the air, during which the waiter returned with Merlin’s drink and asked for their orders. Merlin settled on the first dish he laid eyes on, while Harry responded without even glancing at the menu. Clearly he’d had enough time to prepare while waiting for Merlin- or maybe he came here more often than he claimed.

        Once the waiter left, the wordless silence returned. Merlin took a sip of his drink and waited, watching Harry stare down the table. On the shuttle back to the city, he’d thought of so many things to say to Harry Hart, but now that they were together, his tongue seemed to be locked up. This was so _different_ from their daytime café meetings, where even the silences seemed comfortable. Now, Merlin felt the void very acutely, the agonizing point of _should I talk first, should I wait for him, what should I do-_

“Do you remember the day we chose our dogs during training?” Harry said at once, lifting his head to lock eyes with Merlin.

         _Interesting conversation starter._ “Can’t forget it.”

       Harry smiled faintly, his face softening and his eyes fading as he recalled the memory. “If the choice had been on paper I never would have picked the cairn terrier, but as soon as I laid eyes on that dog I knew he was made for me.”

       Merlin nodded, remembering how Harry had gone straight for the terrier’s cage as soon as the candidates were asked to pick their puppy. He’d been watching over his uncle’s shoulder, reading the list of candidates on the clipboard and the breed names that his uncle had quickly added next to each.

        “You went to him with no hesitation.” Merlin idly tapped his glass. “The two of you were made for each other.”

        “Oh, there was some hesitation,” Harry corrected. “In my mind, you see. I wanted a dog with strong physical endurance, a distinguished breed. I almost chose the greyhound before I saw Mr. Pickle there, and…” He shrugged lightly, an amused smile touching his face. “I fell in love. All thanks to his big, brown eyes.”

       Merlin chuckled and raised his glass for another sip. He left unsaid the thought that Harry’s account of seeing Mr. Pickle for the first time was not unlike Merlin’s reaction to getting his first good look at Harry. Love was far too strong a word… but being ensnared by a pair of brown eyes was definitely a feeling he could relate to.

       “It’s funny,” Harry said, raising his glass to the level of his eyes and inspecting it carefully. “After leaving my home, that little bugger was the closest I had to family.” He drank from his glass before adding, “Besides Kingsman, of course. Basil especially.”

       Merlin nodded, but again the thought rose in his mind before he could suppress it.

       _And yet you SHOT him._

He hadn’t been in the room when Harry pulled the trigger. He’d watched silently as Harry’s final rival hesitated for a few seconds before confusedly handing the gun back to Merlin’s uncle. It was only after the shot had sounded from the other room, the rival had been dismissed, and Harry had been welcomed into Kingsman as the new Galahad that Merlin’s uncle took him aside, aimed at the wall before them, and fired. But other than a loud _bang,_ nothing happened, and it was Merlin’s turn to be confused.

       “Teamwork is extremely important to our organization,” Merlin’s uncle told him, laying his hand on Merlin’s shoulder and looking him dead in the eye. “You heard me say that on the second day of training. But sometimes, it’s more important to know when to leave someone behind. It’s always a tough decision, Ian, and I can promise you it never gets easier. But you always have to understand the situation. Remember that sometimes, a Kingsman agent _can’t_ save the world. We must _try_ to at all costs, but we’re only human, and sometimes our best isn’t enough.”

       If Merlin had been handed the gun, he felt sure that he could have shot the dog, even without hearing his uncle’s explanation of the test. But that was only because he knew what a gun loaded with blanks felt like. Harry had done excellently in weapons training, so it was likely that he too had deduced the secret. But Merlin still wondered to this day, as he had ever since Harry became Galahad. How could someone who doted so much on his pet, who refused to come into work on the day of his death and had just now admitted to Merlin that his dog was all he had to call a family, have looked straight at said dog and _shot_ him? He couldn’t imagine passing the test with absolutely no prior knowledge of what it was supposed to represent.

       Merlin glanced over at Harry, who was now occupying himself by tracing designs in the condensation on his glass. As long as Harry was here… perhaps now was finally the time to ask _why._ He hesitated at first, hating to break up the Mr. Pickle Memorial Dinner, but curiosity won over in the end.

        “Harry?”

       “Mm?” Harry paused in his work and glanced up at Merlin, who took a deep breath and went on.

       “I’ve wondered for years. _Why_ did you shoot the dog? Don’t get me wrong, I know full well that those guns were loaded with blanks. It just strikes me as-“

       “Out of character?” Harry gave an unstable sort of smile. “I suppose my behavior today _would_ give you that impression. Which reminds me, I’d like to take the time to apologize for my harshness this morning. It was rather uncalled for.”

       “Oh, don’t apologize for that,” Merlin muttered hastily, not to be deterred by Harry’s sudden change of subject. “I don’t hold anything against you. I’d like an answer to my question though.”

       “Why did I shoot the dog,” Harry repeated, more of a statement than a question. The softness in his eyes slowly drained away, weariness taking its place. He reached up and rubbed his temple, his gaze dropping to the table.

       “Kingsman’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I wasn’t going to risk letting that opportunity slip away from me.”

       “But how did you know that you were supposed to _shoot_ the dog?” Merlin questioned, remembering how Harry’s rival had assumed that winning the test involved refusing to pull the trigger.

        “What else would I have done?” Harry muttered. “Basil instructed beforehand that-“ He broke off suddenly and let his hand drop, returning his gaze to Merlin. “He didn’t reveal the test to me, of course, but he- he gave me some convincing advice. Arthur _ordered_ me to shoot. I _had_ to…”

       Harry paused, staring so deeply at Merlin that Merlin felt like he had stripped away all the barriers between his public and private self. With one look, Harry had cut straight to the heart of Merlin, and it left him feeling far more vulnerable than he would have liked to be.

       “Wouldn’t _you_ have done the same?” Harry asked.

       The silence that followed spoke for itself. Merlin floundered with the question, wondering how to put his response into words, before realizing that nothing needed to be said. Harry knew. Merlin would have never passed as a full-fledged Kingsman agent, as he’d never wanted to be one in the first place.

       Ironically, it was only when Harry’s gaze drifted from Merlin’s face to a vague spot just above Merlin’s shoulder that he suddenly realized how bloodshot Harry’s eyes looked. How had that previously slipped his attention? He’d been so focused on the Rome mission, on Percival, not to mention the numerous other agents who needed looking after… Yet Merlin had failed to make sure Harry, his _friend,_ was well.

        “Today-“ Harry said abruptly, his eyes focusing on Merlin once more. The weariness had now taken full control of his expression, his guard lowering. “Today wasn’t… it wasn’t _really_ about the dog when I took work off. Although that was upsetting enough. The truth is…” He sighed and looked down to pull at his cuff links, and Merlin realized he’d never seen Harry look so insecure.

        “The truth is, I’ve been feeling out of sorts all week, and it’s not just because Mr. Pickle was sick. I… I’m not entirely sure what’s the matter.” His voice grew a bit louder and more forceful, as if he was trying to drive his black mood away by growing angry with it. “I don’t… I don’t understand, I don’t usually feel-”

       He fell silent as the waiter came by then, balancing their orders on a tray. Merlin was content to discover he’d ordered French onion soup- not his favorite, but it certainly would do. Harry’s plate was loaded with an immense burger and fries, but he seemed to stare straight through it as the waiter set it down, refilled both their glasses, and left.

       Alone together again, Merlin searched for the right words to probe Harry further. He didn’t want to be _too_ intrusive, but Harry’s current attitude was concerning and honestly, more than a little frightening. This wasn’t the self-assured Galahad he knew, and the fact that Harry felt comfortable enough to lower that mask around Merlin spoke volumes. God, why was everything so _frustrating_ with Harry? Although Merlin spent the most time with Harry out of all of Kingsman’s agents, he still found it difficult to get a good read on him. He didn’t know the words that would ease Harry’s mind, or even how to ask for more information.

       Aware that the pause had stretched on a second too long, Merlin finally said lamely, “You’re not referring to your physical condition?”

       Without meeting his eyes, Harry shook his head. “I’m in top physical form at the moment. Have to be ready for Rome.”

       _Forget Rome,_ Merlin wanted to mutter, but its mention did bring him something with which to carry the conversation. “You’ll be headed there soon.” He hesitated, and then said, “I trust meeting with Basil will… improve your spirits.”

       “No, I don’t think you understand,” Harry said, briefly glancing up at Merlin before lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair. “Basil is- he’s part of the problem.”

       Now this was a new development. Merlin stared, his mind flashing back through the many, many times that Galahad and Percival had worked together. Those two were often referred to as the new “dynamic duo,” because of how flawlessly they balanced both getting the job done and diving headfirst into mayhem. From foiling assassination attempts to busting undercover crime rings, the pair always came out of their assignments disheveled and laughing. It was hard to imagine a better-suited team.

       “Basil’s a problem?” _Could have fooled me._ “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I thought you _jumped_ at the chance to assist him in Rome.”

       Harry shrugged. “I _did,_ but…” He trailed off, and then switched subjects instead of elaborating. “Ian, have you noticed how close Basil and Arthur are?”

       Merlin sensed that potent feelings lay beneath Harry’s lightly-spoken query. He picked up his spoon and began swirling it around his soup bowl, choosing his words with care.

       “I’ve noticed they have a strong friendship.”

       Harry nodded, but he did so mechanically, his eyes fixated on Merlin’s soup-stirring. “That’s what I’m worried about.” His words were nearly swallowed up by the thumping music, but Merlin caught them clearly. Instantly he was plagued with the strange desire to insist that Harry was wrong. If Harry only knew how many times before Kingsman that Merlin had feared being useless, unnecessary, redundant to the people around him. How many times during his tenure at Kingsman he’d worried that none of the agents he assisted cared to see him as a real individual. Harry should never have to face the same insecurities.

       There was nothing more Merlin wanted to do than shout in Harry’s face- _Basil respects and values and cares for you! You should know that by now! You are important not just to him, but to everyone at Kingsman! You are important to ME!_

       But Merlin was reluctant to speak so forcefully, for fear of Harry’s reaction. Instead he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone, “That’s nothing to get hung up on, Harry. Basil’s relationship with Arthur is completely different from his relationship with you. Believe me, he’s still incredibly fond of you. I should know- I’ve had to listen to him jabber on for weeks about how he wishes those ‘nasty buggers’ would just hurry up and make their move so you can fly out to work with him.”

        A faint smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips, but a concerned crease remained between his eyes. He unrolled his utensils from his napkin and took a sip from his refilled glass before speaking again.

        “You know, it’s very funny… I’ve known Basil since I was a child, and as far as I can remember, he’s always looked like that.”

       Merlin was about to ask Harry what exactly he meant, before he remembered Percival’s status as Kingsman’s most senior agent. He swallowed down some of his burning-hot soup, bringing images of Percival to mind. It was hard to forget the first time he’d met Percival- he’d been the first agent to properly introduce himself to Merlin- but he couldn’t remember if his appearance had been any different all those years ago. It was hard to imagine Percival without the thin, gray hair, always combed perfectly to one side, and the soft wrinkles that lined his face. Not to mention his light blue eyes, hidden behind tortoiseshell spectacles, and the slightly-unhinged grin he offered everyone, friend or foe.

       “You were young,” Merlin said, hoping his words would continue to lighten Harry’s burdened mind. “You can’t have recalled his looks exactly. Besides, I’ve noticed it happens with the people we’re closest to. We don’t notice they change unless we’ve been apart from them for a while.”

       The smile on Harry’s face grew stronger, his forehead smoothing out. He glanced slyly up at Merlin. “Does that mean you notice me again every time I come back from a mission?”

       _What?_ Harry’s tone of voice and choice of words caught Merlin by surprise. Was… was he _trying_ to be suggestive?  But there was no time to wonder right at that moment. Merlin replied dryly, “Of course I do. I can’t help noticing your _battle scars,_ Harry. I’d say I’m surprised at how blindly you charge into danger, but then again, you picked up your cues from _Basil.”_

“Excuse me,” Harry stated playfully, starting to perk up. “I may have learned from the best, but Basil wasn’t my _trainer._ If you want to blame anyone for the way I turned out, blame your uncle. He should have taught a whole lesson on ‘not charging blindly into danger.’ Maybe then it would have stuck in my head.”

       “Ah-ah, that’s getting a bit personal,” Merlin chided. “My uncle was a fine trainer.” He paused briefly, and then added, “You turned out all right, anyway.”

       Harry seemed to puff up like a pleased peacock, his previous mood forgotten. “Good to know I’m not just a thorn in your side after all.”

       Merlin had to stop himself from responding, _You’re anything but._ The conversation had taken a turn towards pleasantry, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to go any further down that road. He truly enjoyed Harry’s company, but the man got him so muddled up sometimes. The best approach was to reign it in a little, take a step back, and observe with an analytical eye as if he were watching from behind the screens. Harry Hart was a puzzle that needed deciphering, and Merlin had always been one for a challenge.

        For now, he settled on a mumbled “Not always” to Harry, and returned his attention to his food. To his relief, Harry now followed suit, pouring out a bit of ketchup to dip his fries in. They ate without another word for a long moment, during which Merlin finally allowed himself to relax. His back sunk comfortably into the leather of the booth, the bombastic music fading into white noise around him.

       After getting halfway through his burger, Harry set it aside and wiped his hands on the napkin before piping up again. “Ian, I know that… well, we’ve talked a bit on this before, but it’s occurring to me now that perhaps an apology is in order for… for the way I treated you when you first… joined the organization. _Properly_ joined, I mean. Sometimes when you learn from the best… sometimes, the best isn’t quite what it appears to be, and I’m sorry if my former behavior ever offended you.”

       Merlin set his spoon down and met Harry’s eye. He was surprised to see solemn worry in its brown depths- Harry really was afraid, even after all this time, that Merlin still held his words against him. The notion struck Merlin as absurd, though it was somehow touching to hear Harry finally offer a formal apology. His guard wasn’t just down now, it had been beaten and tossed to the wind, likely due to the alcohol he’d consumed all evening. _Or due to something stronger-_

         “That was nine years ago, Harry,” Merlin said. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and offered a short chuckle. “I think you’re forgiven by now.”

       “Am I?” Harry murmured. “I suppose I did make up for it by saving the world, just like you told me to.”

       Memories surfaced in Merlin’s mind, memories of their first mission together as Merlin and Galahad. _“Go save the world, then come to me.”_ How had Harry recalled that? Merlin hadn’t given the statement a second thought after he uttered it. Did Harry think back to that mission often?

       “Don’t forget that you came back,” he said. “That’s the important part. I told you to save the world, but I also told you not to get yourself killed. You followed both of my orders.” Merlin waited a second for Harry to nod in acknowledgement, and then he added, “As long as you learned and grew from the experience, I won’t hold your actions against you.”

         “Well, you know what Hemingway said,” Harry said. “There’s nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man, only to your former self.”

        Merlin raised his eyebrows at the literary invocation. “I didn’t know you read Hemingway.”

        Harry challenged Merlin’s raised eyebrows with a knowing glance. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Ian.”

       But Merlin knew enough.

       He knew that Harry came from a prestigious family, only to have turned his back on them in favor of an eccentric old man with an impressive knowledge of combat. Knew that Harry’s weapon of choice was the Kingsman umbrella, which he had enthusiastically accepted the moment Merlin came up with the design. He knew that Harry would rather drink alcohol than tea, but had deep fondness for both. That Harry was the most sought-after agent for any mission, that up until today he’d had a dog whom he dearly loved and cared for, that he’d shot said dog because his love for Kingsman was stronger. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he knew that Harry had never shared as many personal details with another member of Kingsman, save Percival. Therefore, it could easily be assumed that Harry had complete confidence and trust in Merlin, or he would never have opened up to him.

       Merlin also knew that he’d never wanted to touch Harry Hart more than in that moment. So before he could talk himself out of letting the moment pass, he reached out and gently laid his hand over Harry’s. The skin was warm, smooth, and unblemished, a solid weight in Merlin’s hand. Harry seemed a bit surprised, but not ruffled by Merlin’s touch. He stared at Merlin with a mixture of expectation and perplex.

       “Couldn’t you say the same about me?” Merlin said softly, and despite the volume of the music he knew Harry had heard his statement loud and clear. Slowly, Harry’s face transformed into a charming- _charmed-_ smile.

        Trying to play casual, Merlin removed his hand and went back to finishing his soup. He kept his eyes on the bowl, but in his peripheral vision he watched Harry stare at him for a moment more before returning to his abandoned meal. Slowly he exhaled through his nose.

        Perhaps he’d just found out another fact about Harry Hart.

       The rest of the night passed with little event, and few comments to accompany it. The waiter approached one more time with drink refills, but he withered under Merlin’s sharp gaze and left without serving them. Once their meals had been completely consumed (Merlin was almost surprised that Harry didn’t literally lick the plate clean), Harry was the first to rise. “I think the night’s over for me. Come along?”

       They split the bill on separate checks and then walked out into the cool London night, a soft drizzle of rain tickling them almost immediately. Merlin was prepared to walk on- he’d handled much worse weather conditions- but Harry stopped him. With a flourish, he opened and raised his umbrella, a smugly triumphant look on his face.

        “It’s funny how rarely I see these umbrellas used for their intended purpose,” Merlin commented as he stepped under its shelter. They began to walk, shoulder to shoulder, down the sidewalk, with no destination in mind. Not that there had to be one; Merlin felt comfortable enough just standing beside Harry.

        “Come on now, Ian,” Harry said, amused. “ _You_ didn’t intend them to serve solely as umbrellas, did you?”

       Merlin shook his head and allowed himself to smile for the first time that night. _Ian-_ he’d never given much thought to his name before, but the more he heard Harry say it, the more musical it sounded. Warmth spread through his chest, as if the sun’s light had reached his insides.

        “Thanks,” he said, briefly gesturing to the umbrella over their heads.

       “My pleasure,” Harry responded, his voice rich with warmth. “Really, I’m the one who should be thanking _you._ After such a horrid week, this dinner was the best idea you could have come up with. I needed a night like this, and I’m very grateful that you took time from your busy schedule to provide it.”

       The curb was in sight, but Merlin realized that they’d stopped walking. When had that happened? He gazed over at Harry, then beyond him, into the alleyway just outside the Blue Heron.

        “You’re always telling me I should get out more,” he said. “It’s the least I could do to satisfy your whims.”

       _Anything… for you-_

Harry chuckled, and to Merlin’s ears the sound was substantial, genuine. Harry may have had a bad week, but the week was over now. He’d be all right. Merlin’s work here was done- and yet he had no desire to leave Harry’s side.

       He considered it necessary to ask, “Are you going to get home okay?”

       “Of course,” Harry insisted, nodding his head. “I didn’t have _that_ much to drink, and I won’t be the one driving.”

       “I know,” Merlin said. “I was just worried you’d hit up a few more places without me.”

       “Ah, so you _do_ know how to cut loose,” Harry teased happily. “Would it be presumptuous of me to take credit for that?”

        “Don’t be so egocentric,” Merlin fired back. “I knew how to cut loose _long_ before you came into the picture.”

       “Is that so?” Harry replied. His breath was warm against Merlin’s skin- when had he gotten so _close_ to Merlin? And why didn’t Merlin want him to back away?

       Soft fingers slid against Merlin’s skin as Harry gently took his hand, their palms pressing together. The umbrella lowered a bit, but Merlin wasn’t conscious of the rain around him. All he could see, all he could feel, was _Harry._

       Should- should he really do this?

       Relationships within Kingsman were not unheard of, at least in regards to the administrative staff. Merlin had yet to find solid proof of any relationships between agents, but that could have been because spies were notoriously capable at covering their tracks. With Arthur’s distaste for such relationships, one had to be. But there was nothing specifically written _against_ it, not that Merlin knew of anyway. A few stony glances from Arthur were worth taking the chance.

        Was it worth sacrificing his objectivity, though? Behind the screens, Merlin had always kept a cool head. He couldn’t do his job otherwise. If he decided to take the chance, he might invite the fear back in, the nagging worry that in some way or another, Harry was going to get killed…

        _But he came back._

_“Save the world, then come to me.”_

A shiver ran up Merlin’s spine. They were standing so _close..._ Harry’s hand squeezed against his, and finally Merlin managed to look him in the eye. At once his heart skipped a beat. The light had returned to Harry’s eyes at last, little sparks dancing deep within his irises. God, he’d missed them so.

       A strong emotion surged through Merlin at the sight. _Not_ love. Far too early in the game to call it love. Not even something he could properly name. All Merlin knew was that, when he looked into Harry’s eyes, he wanted to be the source of their spark. He wanted to keep Harry happy for as long as possible.

        Fuck it. Why _not_ succumb?

        Gently Merlin tugged at Harry’s hand, and he followed willingly, collapsing his umbrella. Merlin led Harry into the darkened alley, just inches away from the sidewalk. Even in relatively public seclusion, the relief was overwhelming.

        There was no hesitation in the meeting of their lips. A soft, sweet, gentle kiss, hardly more than a light touch. But to Merlin, it was everything. The warmth in his chest blossomed.

        He pulled away, and Harry’s umbrella clattered to the ground. He stood empty-handed and joyous, and that was enough to put a full-blown smile on Merlin’s face too.

        “Ian,” Harry said, and he sounded just as pleasantly surprised as he did elated. “Please kiss me again, if you’d like.”

        Merlin glanced towards the farthest end of the alley, thinking wistfully on how much more could be asked of him- but there was no need to rush anything. He complied, meeting Harry for a deeper kiss, one that set off fireworks beneath his skin.

        When he opened his eyes and found himself leaning his forehead against Harry’s, his arm wrapped loosely around Harry’s waist, he knew that from now on his vision would forever be obscured by stars. Such a thought was _much_ less daunting than he had expected.

*

       A week later, Merlin sat behind his screens at HQ, drinking coffee and watching through Harry’s eyes as he prepared for his flight to Rome.

       “You’re good to go, Galahad,” Merlin said. “Ready to save the world?”

       “As ready as ever,” Harry replied. His cheerful voice dropped in tone. “As long as I come to you after.”

        Merlin grinned into his coffee mug. _As it should be._ He settled back into his chair, already counting down the minutes to when he would see his favorite knight again.

       One minute. Two minutes.

       Ten minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> I am in the process of turning my ideas about Harry's relationship with his mentor Percival, his family problems, and his training days with Merlin into a full-fledged multi-chapter fic. This will probably be a long time in coming, but I wanted to put that out there in case anyone is interested in the prospect.


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